


Moving On

by thatcrazyhippie



Category: The Stranger (UK TV 2020)
Genre: Adam is an idiot, F/M, Fluff, adam has feelings for johanna, so is corrine, tripp is still dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcrazyhippie/pseuds/thatcrazyhippie
Summary: After the deaths of Corrine and Tripp, Adam Price actively works to move on. With the help of someone unexpected. DS Johanna Griffin
Relationships: Adam Price & Ryan Price & Thomas Price
Kudos: 3





	Moving On

Corrine’s funeral is small - a family affair, after all, there couldn’t be too many questions. Tripp’s funeral won’t even happen because of the manner in which she was discovered. He doesn’t deserve a funeral, really, and Adam will never regret thinking that. 

He invites Johanna, not entirely out of obligation, but he needn’t make it seem like his reasons are completely personal. Even though, they are, and they have entirely too much to do with _something_ changing. Grief, he blames it on. Whatever feelings he has toward the lady detective stem from grief. 

They don’t. 

...

Johanna is a warm figure at his elbow, red curls and soft wool, speaking in a low voice. She hums the word love, like a prayer instead of a term of endearment, and asks him about his boys. Thomas is doing better in school and Ryan is focused more on football and his studies and Ella - she’s not new in his life, but she’s still there, and he’s still crazy about her. 

“How ‘bout you and Phillip?” Adam’s voice rumbles over the cheering Mums. It’s quiet enough not to be heard by listening ears, but it’s certainly loud enough that Johanna hears him just fine. “You workin’ it out?” 

“No.” 

“What’s happened?” the question doesn’t really require voicing but he doesn’t want to sound like an insensitive pratt about things that he’s made his concern asking after. 

“He’s still immature and I’m still not well.” Johanna sighs, tipping her head to watch the youngest Price stumble before kicking the ball into the goal. “Ryan’s ankle still not healed?” 

“It’s a little tender.” but, Adam isn’t referring to his son’s healed ankle. Any trace of a sprain is long gone. “Still gives him trouble at night.” 

“I remember spraining my ankle,” Johanna sighs. “Couldn’t sleep for weeks. Tossin’ and turnin’ all night.” 

“It’s been almost a year, Johanna.” Adam cranes his neck to look down at the long-since retired detective. She’d retired out of the force within a week of Corrine’s body being dug up. 

Johanna meets his eyes, her own stare murky and haunted. Okay, so it has been almost a year since Tripp and Katz and Heidi and _everything_ but the memories linger like chasing shadows. 

“Me and Phillip - we’re divorcin’. He’s filin’, neither of us can do this, anymore. I’m goin’ on that girls trip me and Heidi planned. Takin’ Kimberley with me.” she finally spills her plans in a single slow exhale. “I think gettin’ out of here will do me some good.” 

Adam can’t explain the way his stomach twists, turns itself inside out at the idea of her not being in the city. He can’t explain _why_ it does, it just does. And, his voice is unexplainably soft when he bids her goodbye. 

She sends him a text upon her arrival. The sun pours gold into her hair and the beach has restored her youth, it seems. She looks younger, happier, and refreshed. And, the idea that Kimberley may come back without her becomes a very real possibility. 

Adam takes off from work early, sick at the thought. 

… 

“Jo’s coming for dinner,” Adam informs his sons, stirring a dry red wine into the bolognese sauce. She had a weakness for Italian food, particularly a good bolognese, and Adam knew just the recipe. 

“Jo?” Thomas is teasing, of course. It’s been well over a year, he knows who Jo is. He coined the nickname when he realized how much time she’d been spending with his dad. 

“Johanna Griffin.” absent-minded corrections are a staple of the Price household. 

“I know who she is, Dad.” Thomas laughs, reaching for the bowl of pasta dough. "This isn't smooth enough." 

"I got busy. Hush." Adam scolds his son. Only for them both to break into laughter a moment later. "Jo's favorite is Italian so I'm making spaghetti bolognese." 

"Her favorite, huh?" Thomas continues kneading the pasta dough until a smooth, round ball forms. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that it's been a year since Heidi and she still can't sleep, would it?" 

"We've both got issues." Adam answers quietly. “And, we help each other. She doesn’t want to see a therapist, yet. She doesn’t want to - “ 

“She doesn’t want to remember.” Thomas finishes. 

Adam just hums and shouts for his youngest son. “Get a move on, Ryan. Jo will be here, soon.” 

That'll light a fire under him. If there’s one thing Ryan seems to look forward to, it’s visits from _Auntie Jo._ While none of them are sure where the auntie part came from, Johanna certainly hadn’t lodged any complaints against the affectionate nickname. 

Adam had teased her about it for a month. “I daresay my own kids like Auntie Jo better than their father.” 

The knowledge that he, too, takes comfort in her presence at his dinner table, in his home, quivers in his stomach, an unbidden rush of heat, easily excused to his sons as spending too much time bent over the pan of bolognese to ensure it came out perfect. 

For _Johanna._

...

“It’s been eighteen months, Dad.” Thomas acknowledges what they’ve all been thinking. He’s going into University, Ryan is on his way to graduating, alongside Ella, and Adam’s still doing well for himself in the law firm. 

“What’s your point, Tom?” Adam tosses his son’s football jersey at him. 

"How are you?" Thomas balls the jersey up and tosses it into his duffel bag. "I mean - with everything." 

"I'm alright." Adam shrugs it off as best he can. 

Truth is - he's not sure. 

He's come to terms with his wife's death, he's come to terms with the events surrounding her death. He's even come to terms with taking Tripp's life, pathetic though it was. He's dealt with all of that, as best he can. 

But, part of him, the part he buries beneath being a lawyer and being a dad, that part is torn. He wants his wife back, he's still grieving for her, and maybe he always will, but there's Johanna. 

And a much larger part of him clings to her presence in his life. She's bigger than the grief, always with a bright smile for him and his kids, and soft words of encouragement. She's bigger than the grief with her friendship and her heart and everything about her. 

“I just want you to be happy, Dad. You’re gonna have an empty flat, soon.” Thomas reminds him gently. “And, I think Mum would say the same.” 

“I am happy - I’ve got my boys, I’ve got a good job, I’m happy.” Adam smiles at his oldest son, pulling a wedge of books off of the shelf. “Don’t worry about me, Tom.” 

“You’ve got DS Griffin…” Tom teases gently. Adam blushes but remains silent, steadfast in his focus on packing up his son’s books. “I don’t mind, Dad. I like Jo.” 

“Yeah but…” 

“At least I know someone’ll keep you and Ryan in line while I’m away at Uni.” Thomas shrugs, only half joking. 

Adam pauses for a second. 

_No._ Thomas doesn’t know. He doesn’t _need_ to know. He doesn’t need the fierceness with which Johanna protected Adam - the way she sprung into action cleaning that gun and disposing of any damning evidence. All Thomas needed to know is that he’s got a full university career to think about, a beautiful girlfriend, and a little brother who thinks he hung the moon. 

“Jo’s just a friend, Tom.” Adam finally remembers to breathe. 

“Shame. Me and Ryan really like her.” Thomas claps his dad on the shoulder, slipping past him to head downstairs for more tape. 

The sentiment settles in the back of Adam’s mind like it belongs there. Like it’s meant to be there. As if this is approval, he sought, not information his son volunteered. He’s not sure what to do with it. 

But, it is good to know.

…

“Coffee, two creams, no sugar. English breakfast tea, milk, no sugar.” Adam orders her cup of tea without thinking too much about it. It wasn’t a complicated order, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t have too much trouble remembering it. 

Johanna grins, poking his bicep with her chin, teasing him. “I’m glad someone remembered. Neither Wes or Phillip ever got it right.” 

“Shame. You’re not a hard person to understand, Jo.” the nickname slips off of his tongue. Normally, Johanna is only shortened to Jo with Thomas and Ryan. They prefer to call her Jo and she doesn’t mind. Adam’s always kept her at arm’s length with Johanna, though he always said it with such affection, that she never asked him why he didn't call her Jo. 

It’s been two years. 

Two. 

And, the woman on his arm feels a lot more like an extension of his person rather than a friend. She’s been there when the boys needed someone, when _he_ needed someone. 

"Really? Because Philip seemed to think I was the eighth wonder of the damn world." Johanna giggles. 

"Well, you are that, too." Adam hands the barista money for their drinks and scoops up the hot paper before Jo can touch it. "But when it comes to things like what you like, you're a damn sight easier to learn than most of the women I've been with."

"Oh?" 

"Let's see," he regards her playfully, eyes narrowed. "You eat pizza every other Friday because that's when the pizza shop downtown has your favorite Margherita on the menu. You don't like sugar in your tea because it makes it too syrupy. You like that one particular shop in Brighton that I sent you to for your birthday because they don't carry synthetic fabrics. You're allergic to most of them. You jog the same trail every Saturday because that's when the racehorses are out to pasture and you love horses. You prefer leather boots even though you're retired. And you've read Oliver Twist more than any other book." 

"You -" 

"Pay attention, Jo." Adam slips a cardboard sleeve on her cup before handing it to her. His smile is something. It's different from the usual friendly smiles of before, more loving, almost, more intimate, as if it is their secret. One of many they share. "I didn't pay enough attention to Corrine or my Dad or the things that I should have but I've learned my lesson." 

"And, it started with me?" 

"And, Tom and Ryan, but yes." Adam nods, sliding a sleeve onto his own cup. “Tom prefers peppers with his eggs while Ryan prefers cheese. You prefer fried over scrambled eggs. And, there is nothing in this world that can make you drink orange juice.” 

“It’s bitter!” Johanna insists with a light giggle. 

Adam holds the door, offering her that same smile from earlier as she passes. She doesn’t know what it means, isn’t sure she’ll ever know what a smile like that from a guy like him will ever mean, but it gives her butterflies. 

She _likes_ it. 

…. 

“I’m Johanna Griffin, I’m here for Adam.” it doesn’t have the same authority, her badge had a couple of years ago, but Adam’s law firm still requires her ID for entry. 

“Oh, hi, Jo!” a young blonde - she thinks her name is Catherine greets her cheerily, scanning her ID. “Were you looking to go up?” 

“No, I was actually - “ 

“Waiting for me to drag my arse out of that last meeting.” Adam rumbles, stepping off of the elevator. “Sorry for the wait, Jo. It ran long.” 

Johanna elects not to tell him she hadn’t even been there five minutes, instead, they bid the cheerful receptionist goodbye and bicker about where to go for lunch on the way out of the door. 

“Carrie, are they - ?” Catherine looks over at the redhead flicking through a magazine. 

“Nope.” Carrie sighs, snapping her gum. “It’s been two years since he lost his wife. They’re practically attached at the hip but as far as I can tell they’re not doing anything indecent.” 

“She is a coppa.” Catherine reminds her. 

“Used to be.” Carrie corrects. “I don’t understand them. Who wouldn’t want Adam Price?” 

“Johanna Griffin, apparently.” 

… 

Christine makes contact in month thirty-two, almost three years out from when his life blew up. The call comes in from an unknown number, but her voice is low and gentle. “It’s been almost three years, Adam. Are you ever going to move on?” 

“Maybe.” Adam just can’t admit to thinking about it. He doesn’t feel like he’s betraying Corrine, anymore, but he’s not sure about Johanna. How does she feel about it? About him? 

"Johanna seems like a good match - shared trauma and all." she teases him gently. "And, I've seen you two, together. Took me a while to find the right camera footage. She's besotted with you, Adam." 

"Jo?" 

"Yes, silly, Jo." 

He's not sure why this information punches him in the stomach but it does just that. The air leaves his lungs in a sharp exhale and he bends as though there's a fist buried in his abdomen. 

"Are you alright?" Christine giggles, "You sound as though you've been punched." 

"She's always been a friend." Adam breathes. 

"She's your best friend and she's single." she reminds him, "Adam, do you love this girl?" 

"Ye - I mean, yes, I do. Very much." 

"Tell her. This is one secret she deserves to hear. I think she's got a similar one." 

… 

The three year anniversary comes and goes and Adam's courage builds, anticipatory and excited at the prospect of building a new future with Johanna. The murder of Tripp, _his_ killing of his former friend, is a little easier to stomach with each passing year. 

He does remember the days immediately after, when he’d curled around a toilet bowl, Johanna mopping his forehead and neck with a cold cloth while he threw up. Not one of his shining moments, but it’d all been so fresh and he’d been so overwhelmed. 

...

_“Your dad caught a bit of a bug while lookin’ for your Mum.” she murmured to a worried Ryan - that boy would worry himself into hospital, one day. “Do me a favor, find a box of tea, and put the kettle on. He could use something warm to settle his stomach.”_

_Ryan rushes off to follow her orders - she’s a police woman, her orders aren’t to be argued in his mind. Johanna sinks back down to the floor, next to him, and tugs a hand through his messy hair, while his stomach gives him a break from heaving._

_“There we are, love,” it’s not her usual police voice, no, it’s much softer, much sweeter. “You alright, now?”_

_“I can’t sleep, Jo.”_

_“I know, love,” and, she does. She’s taken a life before, when it’d come down to her life or his, she’d made the choice that let her live to see another day. She hadn’t taken it any easier than Adam had. “It’ll get easier, just give it time.”_

_“Everytime, I close my eyes, Johanna.” Adam breathes; it’s ragged, exhausted, from his entire diaphragm working to expel what little had been left in his stomach. “I see him. And I see her. And I don’t know what to do.”_

_“You give it time like I just told you.” Johanna’s voice is stern but her tone is all play. She doesn’t mean it, the way it sounds. She’s simply chasing a smile, something he’s happy to oblige no matter how miserable he feels. “Now, wait right here, I’m going to make you some tea. Should help your stomach.”_

_“Johanna?”_

_“Yes, love?” she regards him with a tenderness that, if he really thinks about it, had been missing from Corrine for a while before the events of the last few weeks._

_“Thanks.”_

_Johanna just smiles softly and winks at him before continuing onto the kitchen to make his tea. He’s not any less nauseated, but the miserable, sinking feeling eases a little more with every smile she sends him._

_Jo’s a good friend._

_…_

She’d been right, of course. When she’d playfully scolded him over the toilet bowl, she’d been so right. Time had worked its magic and the nightmares that haunted him became dreams of what his life could be if he would just tell Johanna what he felt. _How_ he felt. How deeply in love with her he had fallen. 

But, how? 

  
  



End file.
